Where's Luke?
by Plania
Summary: Luke didn't come back with Kenny at the lodge, but he comes back to save his friends at the hardware store. What happened between then?
1. Chapter 1: The Transformer

**Chapter One**

_The Transformer _

* * *

The windmill's blades churned deafeningly above the wind and rain as Kenny and I dashed around the lodge, dried wild grass folding beneath our feet. I huffed heavily and squinted against the droplets of water pelting against my face. Blindly, I followed the figure of Kenny.

As we rounded the edge of the structure, out of he corner of my eye I witnessed the petit outline of Clem fiddling urgently with the insides of the windmill. I nearly chuckled. Who woulda thought an eleven-year-old girl possessed the intellectual ability to operate advanced machinery? Not that it was rocket science, but I should've asked the kid to take a look at the transformer with us. With another bound, Clementine and the wildly spinning windmill vanished behind the towering wooden wall of the lodge. Kenny and I stole along the width of the building, only a few seconds passing before we curved- still in full stride- around the back of the lodge.

In the dim light of a stormy night, the rusted metal of the transformer gleamed faintly. Fortunately, the windowless back of the lodge perched just a few feet away from a fairly large drop of ratty foliage and sharp rocks that'd be very difficult for any lurker to climb. Our paced slowed as we neared the transformer, and I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no undead followed us. Just as I did so, the loud churning of the windmill faded away.

"Way to go, Clem," I muttered under my breath, reminding myself to praise her for the good job once Kenny and I fixed our problem. I knew that girl was valuable.

My gaze shifted back to Kenny, who with a furrowed brow, examined the mess of coils, wires and metal that was the transformer. Curiosity stirred in my head of what specifically the relationship between Kenny and Clementine was, filling my mind with loud thoughts that sounded over the wind and thunder. "So... how you know Clementine?" I asked, scanning the tree line below for lurkers as Kenny knelt down in front of the transformer. "She said you two went back a while."

Lightening left a jagged scar across the ominous clouds, the brief illumination allowing me to see grizzly man's eyes squeeze shut. I glanced down myself, regretting stirring any somber emotions in him from past experiences. Instead of waiting through an awkward silence, I folded my arms over my orange jacket and spoke over the thunder and wind, "When I first met Clem, she had a dog bite on 'er arm. She was in bad shape; couldn't even crawl away from a lurker. My friend... Pete, he and I barely got to her in time."

"Fuse is busted," Kenny observed, disregarding me. "Ahh hell. We need to look at the windings."

Judging by the amount of smoke clouding around the radiator, the Florida native's statement was accurate. A blown fuse didn't sound so bad. The three copper bushings protruding from the top of the transformer appeared fine, at least; those coils didn't look like they could be replaced easily. I wasn't so sure how to go about fixing the silver contraption, so I was pretty relieved that Kenny seemed familiar with it.

"Give me a hand with the housing," Kenny ordered. "That blade of yours should leave a clean cut easy to repair."

My brown eyes blinked widely and I took a hasty step back. "Woah-_Ho-Ho!_ No way am I touching that thing with a machete. That transformer's still full of electricity!"

"Do you lay eggs, kid? You're being like a damn _chicken_."

"You... _Look_, there's a big difference between bein' careful and bein' scared. I don't wanna to get fried."

"Fried chicken sounds good about now," Kenny hissed ominously, glaring viciously at me as he stood up with our noses just inches apart.

Rage stuck like needles in my head, and I swallowed hard against a harsh comment about how I preferred fried duck. How could Clem like that asshat? A combination of good sense and the fact Kenny wielded a fully loaded shot gun forced me to inhale a curt breath of rainy air. We remained very silent for a handful of heartbeats, staring at each other with friction as wind and icy droplets of rain pounded against our sides. My hand drifted to my pistol, just incase. I nearly cursed aloud as my thumb trailed over the vacant insides of the leather holster.

"Look, me and my group are gonna to leave tomorrow. _Alright_? Let's not start anything for the sake of everybody else," my voice was firm and aloof, nearly as frosty as the wind.

Thunder cackled, shaking the ground. Kenny tensed in reaction to either that or my comment, his finger exploring the curve of his shotgun's trigger as he glared with a brown dagger of a gaze. Under his gray beard, his lips curled like a snarling feral cat. "Good, Clementine doesn't need to be hangin' around you anymore."

Inconspicuously, I raised my arm to brush some of my dark blonde hair out of my face, I knowing that my machete's handle rested in its sheath just a few inches away from my fingers. I thought I might need it after my next comment.

"Clementine's coming with us, Kenny," I confirmed with a sigh.

My assumption of him expressing the opposite of acceptance, not even acquiescing to the statement, proved accurate. The gray haired man boiled with a fiery rage, his knuckles turning white from his death grip around his shotgun. "Why you so keen on keeping her around? You got a _thing_ for little girls, Luke? Huh? You sick sonofabitch!" Kenny sputtered.

The comment caught me completely off guard, and my voice raised into a mix of shock and disgust. "_Hell_ no! Why would you even...? Hate to break it to you, Kenny, but Clem wants-"

Multiple shots from different types of guns split through the air like thunder, cutting my sentence off as my heart leaped out of my chest for fear of my group's safety. As I tensed my muscles to dash to the front of the lodge, Kenny harshly jabbed me in my ribs with the butt of his gun. "Out of my way!" he spat with malice.

I gasped, the blow, wielding impressive force, caused me to stumbled back a handful of steps. Sparkles of dizziness danced in my vision, I barely aware of my boot finding ground on the edge of the abrupt drop, and as my balanced caused me to put a foot back once more. I gasped again, but for a reason other than pain. My stomach flipped as gravity tugged me over the side of the gully.

_Bang. Crash. Snap. _

I bounced like tumbleweed over the rocks and grass with the world spinning around me. Jaw tightening as I, half aware of my surroundings, awaited an agonizing thud into a tree trunk or rock. Instead, my feet slid into mud and chilling water quickly soaked through my bluejeans.

"Son of a..." I broke off with a groan as I attempted to shift away from the cold. The motion swept a wave of pain head to toe, blackening my vision and dulling the storm. I barely noticed a figure, a lurker maybe, meandering around the trees and whipping branches, closing in on me.

* * *

**Authors Note**

_I was in such a rage when my favorite character from Season 2 died, Pete. And then they take away Luke with no explanation of where he is. Depending on how you played the game, Kenny said that he told Luke to "Take a hike", but I don't think Luke would just leave. If anything, he'd come back to the windmill; especially after the gunshots. So, my own wandering mind led me here. Not that this chapter didn't leave you with a cliff hanger either, but... _

_Anyways, hope you liked it. I love reviews, so please leave one if you have the time, even if you are a guest. If not, thank for reading! Sorry for all the typos, too. I tried to get rid of what I saw. I did this on my iPod touch, and we all know how autocorrect likes to make us sound like illiterate fools. _


	2. Chapter 2: Waking Up

**Chapter Two**

_Waking Up_

* * *

It felt like a dream, my mind interpreting my surroundings of pine trees and leafless oaks as a blur of colors, I only able to focus clearly on my boots as I stumbled forwards over stones and branches I wasn't sure how I was moving either, or how I pushed myself up from the muddied ground. Under my arm, a pressure pushed and bumped, though it blended in with the sharp ache stretching down my side all the way down to my hip. Each footstep I took jarred my bones together, and it was all I could do to not cry out in pain.

I recall a soft voice whispering words of encouragement in my ear, urging me onwards. And then, my awareness faltered and I slipped into a world of ebony and numbness.

On the bright side of things, I slept like a baby. Usually, if I managed to drift into slumber, which was rare in itself, a plethora of nightmares consisting of my friends falling to the floor dead from bites or gunshot wounds haunted my sleep. When I finally woke up, I didn't even wake with a jolt of alarm. Instead, I became extremely aware of a soft, cotton blanket positioned over me, and a squishy mattress curving around my body.

Despite that each breath I inhaled, something like daggers or needles jabbed deep I to my lower ribs, I almost felt conformable. Clem probably had found me or something, that phenom, and dashed back to the lodge for help. _Hell_, she saved me on the bridge when I fell through the wooden track. What's one more time? A smile crept onto my lips as I recalled the eleven-year-old. That girl possessed a certain kind of uplifting spirit.

Sighing slightly, I groggily blinked open my eyes- which my left still felt a bit swollen. Through a window, sunlight flitted through the small crack where the curtains didn't quite reach each other, sending a golden rope stretching across the wooden floor and climbing up the green wall opposite of the window. The door was on that wall, adjacent to the strip of light. Upon further observation, my heart skipped a beat._ I wasn't in the lodge._

Alarmed, I propped myself up on my elbows, only to feel a tight restraint reaching across my bare abdomen. Grunting, I lifted up the wool blanket covering me, bewildered to find a rope with a complicated knot, but easy to reach. My next reaction was to search for my machete.

After a quick glance with my eyes, I noted my machete rested on the nightstand beside my bed. I furrowed my brows, though the movement stung a bit and I quickly softened my expression to relieve the pain. Was the guy who saved me kind or just stupid? Not only could I easily slip out of my ropes if a wanted to, but the machete would cut through it like butter.

I extended my arm to reach and cursed under my breath from the ache the rotation in my shoulder caused, but regardless, I snatched the machete from the minute table and quickly severed the rope. Ignoring the agony, I huffed and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

My orange jacket and white undershirt were folded clean and neatly, a woman's touch, on the room's dresser. Pushing myself up with a sharp exhale, I wandered over slowly with a chill running down my back. The cold December air felt very icy against my bare, battered skin. Thank god my pants still remained on me. Stupidly, I almost felt self conscious that somebody had seen me without my shirt. In my defense, my mind was somewhat numb at that point- I had no idea what in the hell was going on and was just confused.

My senses were slowly being returned, and I very tenderly wiggled into my shirts and slid on my gun and machete holster. Soon enough, I limped out of the room very cautiously. A long hallway stretched, all the doors adjoining to it shut closed, allowing me to possess a clear view of spindles that marked a staircase. Quietly, I inched forwards with my weapon in tow. Everything seemed clear, so I climbed down the stairs, clutching the black railing heavily with each step for fear of falling. Though, I was still ready to spring at a lurker or any other living threat.

The main floor of the house flourished with light; an open concept decorated nicely, but dirtied with various scattered papers, books and a handful of weapons. A black handgun rested on the arm of a ebony leather couch, almost identical to the one that should've been in my holster. Brushing some brown hair out of my eyes, I decided that a long range weapon would be very good for.

But something caught my eye as I wandered across the oak floors. I leaned over some of the papers on the kitchen table. I furrowed my expression and tightened my lip as I studied them. All of them were smudged with gray pencil, but more importantly, they were hand drawn portraits with the label of survivors.

While not taking account every specific detail of the faces, they were sketched with enough definition to recognize and relate the drawing to a person. I pushed the top drawings a little so I could see more, captivated and curious by the people. Some even were labeled with names. Near the top of the stack, a certain face caused my mouth to gape. The chin of the man on the paper was shielded by a full beard, accompanied by a matching bushy pair of eyebrows that rested just beneath the bill of a hat.

"Kenny," I whispered.

Pinching the corner of the drawing tightly between my thumb and my index finger, I recalled the fuzzy memory of last night. I nearly hissed with rage. It was his fault my body ached, his fault I was a canvas painted with splotches of sickly purple, blue and yellow bruises. If only he hadn't struck me. Maybe his intentions weren't to send me toppling down the gully, but either way, his unstable actions and crude attitude caused a lot of problems for me.

"_Hey_!"

Startled, I whipped around at the gentle voice, sending the sketch drifting to the floor and wielding my machete. Two eyes peered at me, blue as the sky and narrowed with what I would call a cautious curiosity. I watched them as the slithered down away from my face and to my blade, which I lowered considering no weapons were pointed at me and I didn't want to appear as a threat. I smiled as the gaze flicked back to my face. "Hi there, you, uh, friendly?" I said politely, bewildered.

"Oh just the _friendliest_." Even when being wry, she possessed a honeyed susurrant voice that soothed like the gentle pressure of hands or a blanket, but it quickly escalated to a dominant and assertive tone. "Hope you are, because I don't get along to well with assholes."

The owner of the voice was a few inches shorter than myself with very long, light golden hair, and she clutched a makeshift bow and arrow with a firm grip, a shot almost ready, but aimed unthreateningly at the wooden floorboards. She didn't appear to be with Carver, assuming the blonde girl looked like she was in her mid teens and Carver would never let anybody that young and female be on their own. Better to come off as friendly than an asshole after that conclusion. I chuckled softly, removing one hand from my weapon and extending it slowly towards the newcomer. "Well, good thing I'm not an asshole. I'm Luke."

"Shannon. Nice to meet me you."

She adjusted her bow and arrow to one hand and obliged. I tensed as a small jangle of the clank and clink of metal came with the out reaching of her right hand, my eyes searching for the source of the unnatural sound. From her thin wrist, a silver chain dangled. A mix of crusty and fresh scarlet blood stained the cuff of her sleeve, though the rest of her striped top and jeans remained admirably clean, considering. I furrowed my expression as our hands met. Course, my first thoughts drifted to 'was she bitten', but after what happened to Clementine and the fact a chain wrapped so tightly around her wrist made me think I shouldn't jump to conclusions. So, I pretended not to notice.

"So... What's with all these drawings?" I asked as we withdrew from each other.

She stared at me for a heartbeat before smirking and stepping contiguous to me, and I tensed, not completely comfortable with the strange teenager being so close, let alone brushing against my arm. However, she didn't seem concerned with me, more so with her disturbed stack of papers. She set her bow down to organize them. "Did you see someone you know?" Shannon asked in return, a certain eagerness in her voice.

The blonde turned expectantly at me as I considered telling her about Kenny. Though, by the way she studied me so intricately with those blue eyes, almost like a carnival con artist pretending to be a mind reader, one who picked up those tiny details, caused me to think the truth might be the best idea.

"Yeah, uh," I bent down to pick up the fallen sketch of drawing of Kenny, "This guy. His name's... Kenny."

"Ah. Are you feeling okay? Your ribs looked _pretty_ nasty." She blinked as I struggled to get up. "Here sit down, I'll tell you what I saw. You're probably very confused right now."

No shit. That girl could not explain to me fast enough what was going on.

I crashed into a very padded arm chair, sitting like she instructed. My feet twitched as my mind begged me to run outside and dash back to the lodge. Couldn't be far, right? Not if the kid, who's ribs showed under her tight shirt, dragged me here. But I convinced myself to wait, gather all the information I could before heading back. She seemed erudite, anyways, maybe she'd help me.

"I'm fine. Look, I need you to tell me everything," I urged peering at her with a serious expression. "Ya' know where my group is? Do _you_ have a group? What's with the chain on your hand? Come on, kid."

"I... I heard the tail of your argument. I saw the man, Kenny, push you, and it looked as if he was gonna come down and get you, but then machine guns fired off- or some gun with a short interval between shots, and he ran around the side of the lodge," Shannon explained swiftly, and I stopped paying attention to her even though she continued speaking.

"_Fuck_." I felt like I was going to throw up my peaches and beans, panic and anxiety drenching me like rain. I knew who used machine guns. Carver. Though, like usual, I stifled these feeling and remained level-headed and logical as I could to best myself and my group. "We gotta go back to the lodge, alright."

"Alright." She sighed, as if expecting my response. "It's not _too_ far."

* * *

**Author's Note**

_I updated much quicker than expected. Wow. I had a lot of encouragement, of course, and that always helps! So, do you guys prefer the longer or short chapter? Or both? I'd like to know which is preferable by people so I can write more effectively. Anyways, with this I hoped to capture Luke's confusion over everything. He didn't pick up a ton on the new character I introduced- in fact little is known about her entirely. Hell, he didn't even ask some of the more important questions and get an explanation of why he was tied up, or taken in so kindly. Mwehehehe. _

_Like always, thank you for reading. To people who reviewed last, check your inbox if you can receive private messages. I replied to everyone I could. That being said, I really do enjoy input and thank you for reviewing! Please leave more, if you would. (:_


	3. Chapter 3: Missing Pieces

**Chapter Three**

_Missing Pieces_

* * *

The girl told me she'd just be a _second_, that she'd just grab a few supplies before joining me in front of the house. Then we'd head out. I paced stiffly just a few feet before spinning on my heel and repeating the action, often running a hand through my greasy hair and exhaling loudly. A cocoon of very energetic butterflies must've hatched from my stomach, as my insides felt tingling and unsettling to the point where the wide spread pain I experienced just a few moments ago vanished to nothing.

My group was probably worried sick about me. I wondered what Kenny told them, though it more than likely contradicted from the truth, like 'a walker pushed the kid down the side of the mountain'. If he yearned to capture Clementine's company, the last thing he'd tell that poor girl was the truth.

_Think bout' something else, alright, Luke? You're gonna be okay._

Following my mind's instructions, I forced myself to cease my anxiety and adrenalin driven pacing and focus on the house.

From the outside, the battered wooden boarding possessed a venerable feel, the house probably pertaining to decades and decades ago. All the windows were spaced equally in the front; two rows of three on either side of the oak door, which settled right in the middle. Colonial. The inside didn't quite fit with the fusty outside. It honed a more 'modern' appearance. So, I assumed at one point, the inner portion of the dwelling had been renovated. I hoped the transformer for this house was just as new as the interior, because I sure as _hell_ wasn't going anywhere near one of those for a while.

_Click._

I stifled a sudden gasp at the soft noise, but upon realizing it was just Shannon swinging open the door to the house, I simply sighed. Along with her bow and a handful of handmade arrows, she wielded a short bladed knife, a pistol and a small, silver handgun. As she sauntered through and passed closely by me, she slid the pistol into my holster. I could've sworn I watched her smirk with a hint of amusement as I shrunk away from her tingling touch.

"C'mon, we're burnin' daylight," I pressed as she fiddled with her long hair.

In reply, I received a stink-eye from Shannon as she continued to gather her sand-colored locks in a ponytail. Sighing with a hint of agitation, I studied her as she did so. _Tight jeans, tight shirt, long hair, sassy_, I estimated in my head, _Definitely a teenager, probably ten years younger than me and few older than Clem. Maybe if I keep wanderin' in forests, I'll finally find a girl my age. They seem to be gettin_' _older_.

I cleared my throat at my straying thoughts, just as Shannon dropped her hands to her thin sides. "You... got ammunition?" I questioned.

"Absolutely not. I shoot walkers with pretend bullets," the blonde answered with a straight face but a light voice as she drew out a box of bullets made the caliber of the pistol she provided for me.

The teen tossed them in my general direction, but not exactly hitting the numbers. Teetering on one foot and extending my arm, I grasped the box in my hand and drew it close to me as I regained my balance. I grunted a bit at the still raw pain.

"Just askin'."

Shannon frowned either at me or her mediocre throw, pivoting on her heels and trotting to the north. Following her like a lost puppy, I shoved my ammo into the hind pocket of my jeans and withdrew my machete with a _shing_.

After countess footsteps of nothing more than a crow squawk or the sloosh of sinking into the muddy forest floor, I decided that I needed to focus on anything than what my group might be thinking or if Carver had found them. "So, why are you so nice? Most now a day woulda just left me to die."

"I'm... not the only one who stays at the house. Another guy stays here, but we don't pay attention to each other."

That didn't quite answer my question, but at least I pried some useful information out of the girl. She was the epitome of a puzzle, and I didn't even have a corner piece yet.

"Why's that?"

"I didn't agree with some of his... _Habits_, you could say," the corner of her chapped lips twitched as if to smile of frown as she spoke. "So, we don't speak other than the important things to avoid doing things we'd regret. It works out okay, but I don't expect him to take a bullet for me."

"Ohhhkay..?"

Well, that certainly stirred more inquiries up than provided answers. She snuck a glance sideways at my confused expression, which drew a slight giggle from her. "I'm not nice, Luke. I'm very dangerous. You just caught me in a good mood."

I scoffed at her comment. "What are you, fourteen, kid? I could take you. I think."

"_Fif_teen," she corrected. "And you think very wrong. I've been on my own the majority of the time, and you can't do that, especially as a girl, without being very dangerous among many other things. I made my way here from Colorado."

Inhaling the misty, pine-scented air as we meandered around winding tree limbs and muddy, I paused our conversation for a moment. Something was just... _off_.

"You know, you sure talk a lot, but you... say nothin'," I commented.

"And you sure don't make a lot of sense," she retorted with a silver tongue.

I angled my chin down slightly, lowering my brown eyes to her face for a moment. While she gazed onwards, I'm positive Shannon knew I was looking at her. I sighed. "I'm just saying, alright? Kinda feels like you're hiding something from me. Don't mean nothin' by it. Just... curious."

"Curious," Shannon repeated, mimicking my exact tone. "Hmm."

Unexpectedly, she drew her bow and arrow and lined up the sights with a hunched posture and a jingle of the chain around her wrist. I followed where the stone arrowhead pointed, and tensed as my eyes flickered to a decayed lurker struggling to to wander through the thick foliage of the forest only a few yards away. The gurgle of a groan escaping from its throat was soft, which explained why we weren't alerted before. Beside it lay an unmoving walker, who slumped against a tree with an arrow identical to Shannon's protruding from its skull. Though, I hadn't seen her fire off the bow.

I twisted my machete in my palm. "We can just-"

_Zoop_.

The arrow raced through the air, wobbling a bit and missing the lurker a good foot to the right as it clattered into some branches. Shannon cursed softly and slung her bow over her shoulder, dashing towards the undead with her blonde hair whipping around behind her. Her short bladed knife glinted in the sunlight. Repeating her curse, I charged after her. That walker was pretty big.

With impressive agility, she reached the lurker first, dancing around it a bit and peering at it as it attempted to snatch her. Why wasn't she killing it?

Instead, when I neared it enough, I side swiped my machete into the monster's head. The motion itself rippled agony into my ribcage, and I cursed a but more audibly than I should've. The walker fell to the ground with a thump.

"What's wrong with you?" I snapped, "You shouldn't just... Run off at something without tell the guy standing beside what the hell you're doing, _okay_?"

"Bite me," Shannon shrugged, retrieving her arrows.

"I won't, but a lurker might if you keep that shit up. Are you crazy?"

The blonde shrugged off my caveat. "If I die, it won't be from a walker."

I would've questioned what she meant if it wasn't for the lodge peeking through the treetops.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_Hehe, I don't have too much to say besides I had fun with the dialogue, and I write everything on my iPod. Also, zoop is fun to say. Glad to see everyone still is enjoying it, and like always, thanks for reading and reviewing. It's very much appreciated. I also go the the suggested of a LukexShannon pairing. What's your opinion on that? Review or PM me your opinion; it'd help. _

_Now, I only just realized I had some guest reviews because I don't recall having to moderate them. Anyways, since you guests deserve just as much thanks and response as people who have access to an account, I'll reply to you below;_

_**Jin**: Thank you for the compliments and finding that error. Good eyes you have there, and I hope you can get logged in soon. As for In Harms Way, I would definitely like to keep it on par with the game. It just depends what specifically happens in Episode 8. Again, thank you for your current and hopefully future support!_

_**Guest**: Thanks! And agreed; that's a plausible theory. Plus, the only 400 Days has been Bonnie so far. I hope something brings Luke back, because he's my second favorite character after Pete._

_**Guesty O'McGuest**: I'll admit it; your name made me smirk a bit. Hehe. Thanks for the the compliments! Though, I think there are plenty of fics out there with those topics just as good or better than this. As for the Luke x Shannon... I guess they're not too far apart in age, and laws don't apply anymore. But... Well, I'll find out what other people think of this._


	4. Chapter 4: Return to the Lodge

**Chapter Four**

_Return to the Lodge_

* * *

Machete drawn, I ignored my stiff and battered body, pulling my feet from the mud and rushing forwards. My eyes locked on the cabin, thoughts of my people- Nick, Clem, Sarah, Carlos, Rebecca, Alvin- bouncing around in my mind like a windstorm raged in my head. _Ooof_.

I teetered backwards at an unexpected force pulling gently on my back and shoulders that faltered my run and unbalanced me ever so slightly. A hand found it's way onto my shoulder, and I half expected it to be a lurker. However, I'm glad I didn't react that way.

"I'll climb a tree and look, make sure we can't see anybody before charging up there like mindless fools," Shannon hissed the warning in my ear, who had snatched my shirt.

"Alright... Good plan," I muttered in reply, and she released her grip. "I'll catch you if you fa-"

"_Trust_ _me_, I won't fall."

Squeezing my brown eyes shut tightly, I allowed silence to reign; focusing on the sickly sweet scent of pine instead of being interrupted.

_Just be careful, alright._

At the shifting of dirt, I glanced up. Shannon stood tense beneath one of the few oak trees, which surprisingly still possessed a handful of brown and orange leaves clinging on to the inner branches. The tree was a good choice to climb. Many of the higher branches remained at a similar consistency to the lower branches. The only problem, the lower branches still meandered above the fifteen-year -old's blonde head.

Instead of offering my help to hoist her up, which I expected to receive some sort of snarky comment in return, I remained silent. I'd only suggest my aid if Shannon really needed it.

Like a cat, Shannon leaped from a standing position to a good foot in the air and wrapped her fingers around a low hanging branch. Her thin body trembled slightly as she pulled herself up, the blonde pushing her feet against the rotted trunk and hoisting herself onto the oak's sturdy limb. Even from the ground, I noted how her face scrunched up in agony. That chain on her wrist must've been bothering her.

Though, Shannon wasted no time; she weaved her way through the branches very elegantly, shaking the tree just ever so slightly. Once she reached a position high enough where she possessed a decent view of the lodge, she leaned her back against one of the more hardy, inner branches and wedged her foot where one split into two smaller ones. The teen cupped her bloodied hands around her eyes. My guess, to block out the blindingly bright morning sunlight.

"See anything, Shan?" I asked, uneasy and eager.

It reminded me of when Clem climbed up the metal ladder to search for anything noticeable, only now, there was no surprise of other survivors to distract me.

"Nope. No movement. There's an opened window, though, above the little deck. That's..." she trailed off and cleared her throat.

My thumping heart was conflicted; no movement marked safety for the girl and I to enter the structure, however, my group should've been moving that early in the morning. Though, the thought that the adults might've been searching for me provided a bit of comfort for me. With shallow breath, I stared intently at the blonde girl who had been so kind to help me out.

"Yeah, I think we're good."

After dropping down, she and I shifted vigilantly through the forest. Considering the rainfall and countless leaves covering the earth, being silent was nearly impossible. Shannon shot me a menacing glance as I made a plash in a small puddle, which I shrugged my shoulders at her fastidious nature. Climbing up the gully proved to be difficult, especially after the downpour the day before; rocks kept crumbling and clattering under our feet, at one point Shannon nearly tumbling down with them if I hadn't grabbed her arm. After much effort and maybe a bit too much noise for my liking, we reached the top. I refused to look at the transformer.

Shannon's attention was absorbed by a jumble of scattered footprints; her chin angled downwards and her azure eyes narrowed as she sluggishly followed them around the lodge. Impatiently, I frowned at the girl. Who cared about a bunch of lurker prints?

Exhaling a soft growl of a breath in frustration, I hurriedly perambulated around the blonde, which earned me a disapproving smirk from her and a flicker of annoyance in her gaze. All the while, she appeared to understand my urgency. Nodding curtly in reply, I rushed forward with my feet sloshing and sinking into the mud and moistened earth from the previous night's thunderstorm. Shannon trotted after me, albeit much more softly.

The outside of the lodge was a graveyard. Bodies of walkers littered the ground like the multitude of pinecones stripped from their branches from the previous harsh gusts of wind. Plenty of them held some resemblance to Swiss cheese with how many damn bullet holes punctured their bodies.

"Holy shit," I murmured.

"More like holy _walkers_," Shannon whispered, her arrow quivering slightly as she prepared for any of them to rise to their feet. "What a waste."

She still followed with the interest in the imprints in the ground, wandering towards a lift just a little ways off. Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the lodge; observing the jagged glass that was left in some of the windows. Machete reading to strike and adrenalin pumping, I thought, _they're fine, Luke. Okay. They're fine._

Inside was shadowed and contrasting to the bright and brilliant outdoors, but my heart sank into my stomach as my gaze drifted upon multiple figures lying still on the floor of the structure. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head.

"Shan, I need backup," I called softly to the teen, who danced her way over walkers and puddles to be by my side.

That time she awaited for my single before entering into a hazardous situation, I stepping through the window with fragments of white glass cracking beneath my boots. Once my eyes adjusted, I ceased my movement and breathed loudly. I barely noticed Shannon bumping into me, I completely overtaken by the tragic scene in front of us.

Alvin slumped oddly against the wooden floors, his bound hands twisted in a mangled mess beneath him. Spattered in a messy line, dark blood stained in a trail from a quarter sized hole in the dark-skinned man's head to a splinted cavity in the floorboards. A few feet away, Walter mimicked the position, his face turned to towards me with his expression still like a deer in the headlights; wide, frightened eyes with a mouth hanging slightly agape in a silent and endless scream.

"Oh _fuck_." I couldn't bring myself to look at the lifeless bodies of Walter and Alvin anymore, I repeating my curse as I pressed my palms against my forehead. "W-what happened!? Where's..."

"Execution style…" Shannon murmured. "Who... would do something like this?"

Certainly, my suspicions of the infamous leader I used to allow to control my group wormed its way determinedly into my mind. My eyes searched around desperately, forcing myself to look for some sign of him, even in the deceased. With a skilled heartbeat, I recognized Carver's dead henchmen instantly and wrinkled my nose. They, the ones who followed them blindly. The two that did his dirty work when he was too lazy to, because god knows that savage man possessed no qualms murdering an innocent man.

"_Carver_," I spat his name out like venom. "Dammit, Kenny, I could've done something if he hadn't-"

I stopped myself, swallowing hard against the stinging bile rising threateningly in my throat. To avoid shedding any tears of rage and sadness, I blinked rapidly and rubbed the scratched bridge of my nose with some unneeded force. Whether or not the kid noticed, I didn't care... I just couldn't cry, _not_ for Carver.

"All this glass was shattered recently… the shards are on top of the bodies," Shannon peered out the glassless window at the lift. "Luke, tell me about Carver- and Kenny. Vengeful? Violent? Determined?"

"Yeah, uh yeah. Carver's a complete monster, alright. He shot Alvin and Walter. I know he did. Probably. And Kenny's a loose cannon, if you hadn't figured that out," I explained with a somber smirk.

Shannon folded her arms over loosely her chest, peering around the lodge and stepping carefully over the deceased. With my own gaze settled on the floor as I began to contemplate and access the situation, I stiffened as the blonde teenager began to speak.

"I have a good idea of what happened here."

I scoffed sadly. "Yeah, I'm _sure_ you do, kid."

"Okay, I'll just keep it to myself, then." The fifteen year old shrugged, her tone slithering into aloofness. Despite her dry voice, she snuck a glance of pith towards me.

As far as I was concerned, even if she somehow knew, it didn't change the fact Carver captured my group and murdered Alvin and Walt in cold blood. My big decision now was whether I accepted failure or pursued an impossible rescue mission to retrieve my friends.

* * *

**Author's Note **

_So, what should Luke do? Give up? Follow Carver? Hehe, appreciate the reviews, and sorry I haven't updated in a few days. I've gotten a ton of art requests for people to draw their characters, so that's been taking priority. _


	5. Chapter 5: Pair of Bullets

**Chapter Five**

_Pair of Bullets_

* * *

Just in a handful of heartbeats, all my hopes bedashed themselves, tossed idly into the dead air inside Shannon's makeshift home. Our journey back from the ravaged lodge remained silent to the outside world, but in my mind, sickening thoughts of what took place squirmed deafeningly. The blonde urged me that the best thing to do was to evaluate the situation under a roof and behind sturdy walls, but even in the safety the hardy structure of her dwelling provided, my thoughts never wavered.

Slumped in a soft white chair in the living room, I stared emptily into the kitchen at Shannon who sifted through her papers dressed with portraits and writings. Only once did my brown gaze waver, shifting to a bag of expired crackers that rested on a little table beside my chair. My stomach rumbled like thunder.

With a harsh sigh, I raced a hand through my hair before exploring the bag for a cracker. It crinkled softly as my digits padded around the almost empty insides. Retrieving one of the last unbroken crackers, my nose twitched at the musty smell before shrugging and pushing it between my chapped lips.

I pressed the insipid cracker against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, splitting it into smaller, more manageable bites with crumbled edges. Shifting the largest fragment between my rows of teeth, I crunched the snack swiftly with sharp movements of my jaw. Shannon glanced away from her paper at the sudden noise. As she leered at me, the blonde smirked.

"I can get rid of your Carver problem."

Sighing at the fallacy that she spoke of with such conviction, I roughly combed through my gnarled hair with the filthy tips of my fingers. "Yeah, kid? You and what army?" I inquired with skepticism drenching my tone.

"Who says I need an army?" Shannon answered acrimoniously.

Immediately regretting my words, my chocolatey gaze danced across the room, skittering nervously away from the fifteen-year-old's face for fear I'd offended her. Though, when my eyes dashed across her profile, I settled slightly. Her inquisitive expression mismatched with her caustic voice.

"Look, 's not that I don't think you can handle yourself, it's _Carver_. You just... don't _know_ him." A frown drooped over my expression as I repeated the surname of my wise adversary.

Shannon raised a brow. "I don't need to know him to know who he is."

With a sharp intake of chilly winter air, I buried my face into my hands to shelter the scowl on my face from the seemingly spitfire blonde girl. "You can't just... just start a fucking war with him, alright! Carver'll win no matter what ya' do."

"War has no winners," Shannon huffed icily, "Which is why I'm not _stupid_ enough to start one."

I narrowed my eyes and furrowed a brow, shifting back in my chair with a recently stirred mixture of curiosity and dubiety. "Then... how in the hell are ya' gonna get rid of Carver?"

"I didn't say get rid of _Carver_, I said get rid of your Carver _problem_. I have a plan that will make him, you and the rest of your group happy," she explained.

"Oh yeah, kid?

"I'll tell you eventually, but first you have to get me as close as possible to where he and his group are staying. Until then, you have to just," her lips curled slyly into a hint of a smile, "_trust me_."

I nearly laughed. "Trust you? How can I trust a person who's hidin' something from me?"

"The plan won't work without me, so there's no use in me telling you 'till it's about to happen. You've been dealt a shit hand, Luke, and I'm giving you are a pair of aces. So either take the gamble and play them, or fold."

"I've... never been good at poker."

Her blistered fingers drummed expectantly on the arm of her chair, confidence reining over her young features. "So is that a yes or a no?"

"Well, might as well."

"Alright," Shannon pushed herself from her chair. "Come on, let's go."

"Woah, _now_?"

"Why not?"

"What... about your roommate? The one with the habits?"

A hint of rosy red snuck onto the pale cheeks of the teenager, her azure eyes averting from mine. "You're... better off not knowing him and what those habits are. Now let's get some supplies and find your group."

Within an hour, Shannon had rummaged through most of the house to finally disappear upstairs while I continued to ponder in my chair. Just as I thought she dwelled a suspiciously long time on the second story, the girl thundered down the stairs with two hefty Swiss backpacks that bulged with supplies. She assured me that in them contained anything we would ever need, and we began our pursuit of Carver, disappearing into the chilled forest.

Within another hour, we discovered our lunch; a pitiful young rabbit painfully struggling through the brittle undergrowth with a wounded hind leg that surely marked a swift demise. A simple downstroke of my machete split the leverets head from the rest of its body. I glanced over at my fellow survivor for an expected praise pertaining to the clean cut kill, though instead she stared down at the butchered bunny with a ghostly gaze.

"Better us than a lurker," I reassured her.

Shannon shot me a glare and tossed her backpack down from her shoulder. Lowering it down gently so it lacked a alerting noise, she unzipped one of the middle pouches and revealed a plethora of handy medicinal items. "I had the supplies to heal its leg, and we have food for weeks," she said sourly.

"Wait, why did you bring so much-? Are you _crazy_, kid? What if something happens and you loose all of that? We need to go bac-"

"Don't worry, I didn't put all of my eggs in one basket," she huffed, almost amused at my concern. "And I'm not talking about my backpacks."

"_Shannon_," I chided hoarsely, frustration at her vagueness boiling in my blood.

As the blonde simply leered at me and raised her hands up in innocence, I lunged in her direction and wrapped my fingers around her bloodied forearms. With a surprised grunt from Shannon, I pulled them to the height of my chest. "What is _wrong_ with you. Y-you always speaking in riddles that make no sense. I need your help. Okay? Not _this_ bullshit."

"Luke, Luke, _Luke_," the blonde murmured with a roguish smile. Instead of twisting away from my loose grip, Shannon inched her pale face closer to mine. "When are you going to show some more alacrity? I'm _helping_ you."

"What the hell is alacrity?" I spat vehemently, striking her with a fierce gaze. Air hissing out between my teeth, I jerked away and released her with a push. "Look, Shannon, I don't know what you're doing! Hell, maybe you're helping me, or maybe leading me to a trap. I just don't know. You're playing games, and I can't afford to be a pawn when my friends are out there, alright?"

The slyness twinkling in her glasz eyes faltered as they lowered to the earth, the girl's nose twitching slightly as she seemed to ponder my wordy efforts to reveal some of the thoughts wormed into the guarded shelter of her mind. Sighing, Shannon sifted through some of the loose brown dirt with her foot. "It's not as simple as you think it is," she admitted.

"Can't be rocket science," I pointed out, softening my voice as guilt for my brashness replaced some of the frustration.

"No, it's not." Shannon folded her arms and chewed her lower lip, her brows creased. Only a handful of heartbeats drummed on before she finally glanced back up at me. "Alrighty. I'll tell you one thing for now. You can ask me one question- and not about the plan for Carver."

I was confident that was the best I was going to get, so I refrained from pushing her any farther. One thing became very evident through our conversation without a question to her; Shannon didn't trust me as much as I thought she did. I was walking on very thin eggshells.

"Tell me about the chain, the one around your wrist," I quickly inquired without much thought.

Clearing her throat with what appeared to be uneasiness, Shannon returned her gaze to the muddy forest floor. Her hand wandered to the forearm with the chain tangled around it, gently pulling up the gray sleeve to reveal the chain link once more. "So I was up north, and a group of-"

_Snap_.

In unison, Shannon and I spun on our heels to face the direction of the sound with weapons in hand; her with the bow and me with my machete. Tense, I squinted as my eyes combed through the brittle foliage. Shannon nudged me and nodded towards a clump of thicker undergrowth. A handful of yards away, dark hair peeked over the spire of a tree, the sheen of the aloof sunlight causing enough contrast to catch my eye.

"_Hey_, I can see you behind the tree," Shannon called curtly. "Come out."

After a few heartbeats of silence, a defeated sigh broke into the frosty air and a figured wobbled out from behind the trunk. The glint of a shotgun barrel caused my spare hand to drift down to my gun, quite aware that my blonde friend needed some luck to hit a target that wasn't just a few feet from her. A long ranged weapon possessed much importance at this point.

Limping from the shadows of trembling branches, an African American lady inched forward. I blinked in concern at her wounded leg. It oozed with an unnatural, sickly hued substance that suggested infection. However, I quickly returned my gaze to her profile as I readied for a confrontation.

The dark skinned woman scowled, her thin body quivering slightly as she tightened her muscles to prepare for any sudden movements from me and Shannon. Lips curved south in a frown and forehead wrinkled in a furrow, the survivor glowered at us.

"Woah, now, that wound looks pretty nasty. We can help you if you're not bit, okay, we have the supplies," I attempted to persuade the gun-wielding survivor.

"Oh are you now?" the woman scoffed sourly, skepticism drenching her tone.

I snuck a glance at Shannon for some sort of input from her peculiar intelligence, which she promptly returned in a brief, silent conversation. "She's not a threat," the blonde hissed, her mouth unmoving.

"How do you kno-"

"So, what's your name?" interrupting me, the blonde hinted a smile and slowly lowered her bow. "I'm Shannon."

The newcomer blinked, her chocolatey gaze flickering between Shannon and I in a silent battle between trust and caution. Finally, the woman sighed as she repeated Shannon's friendly motion and lowered her shotgun.

"I'm Christa," she sighed.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_Happy Easter! Here's a new chapter, with some eggy figurative language buried between the Luke and Shannon drama in honor of the holiday. Also note the chapter title; I don't think it's well known that a pair of bullets is a poker term for a pair of aces. I thought that'd be a good title considering the context. _

_Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing! Have a wonderful holiday! _


	6. Chapter 6: Suspicions

**Chapter Six **

_Suspicions_

* * *

"Sorry for that uh, little scare there," Shannon spoke swiftly, eager to smooth the tension even farther to prevent any deadly wrinkles as the lady limped towards us. "Oh, and Christa, this is my friend Luke."

Shannon glanced sideways at me expectantly. I blinked, my mouth too dry for words.

_Christa_.

With a ghostly expression, the woman's golden-brown eyes studied Shannon as if reading carefully through a book, the new survivor more intent with my blonde friend than myself. My own features furrowed at the familiarity of Christa's name.

_Christa_.

Where had I heard that name before? As if rummaging through a file cabinet for a specific folder, I struggled to discover something relevant hidden in my mind. I brushed a hand through my hair.

A recent memory from the early week flooded into my head, a snapshot from when we first fled from the cabin; right after discovering the drunken mess of Nick slumped drowsily in that shed.

_"You... sure you still want to come with us? Look, I know we got off to a rough start. And I can't any promises it won't get rougher, but we all know you now."_

_"I have to look for Christa," the girl answered, her gaze fixed_

_At the mention of her friend, my heart sank deep into my chest as if it was weighed down by an anchor. I pitied Clementine and her feeble grasp on hope, In the current world, if two people separated from each other, I was convinced the chances of stumbling across them dwindled down to slim to none. Paired with the previous rain, tracking proved even more difficult._

_No way is that poor girl going to find Christa, I thought with a stifled frown._

_"She was headed north, right?"_

_"Yeah," confirmed Clementine in a mellow tone, her matching eyes peering upwards at my face._

_I continued quickly. "So are we. Look, you're gonna have better chances finding her with us than on your own."_

"Did... you say Christa?" I inquired curiously, wondering of my skepticism towards the tween had been misplaced.

"Yeah, I did." Chirsta tensed visibly, the wary woman cautioned by the intensity in my tone.

Excited, I intended on replying something along the lines of, _Hey... uh, Christa do you know a little girl named Clementine? Curly dark hair... wear a ball cap?_ However, Shannon broke in before I could even open my mouth.

"Sorry, my friend is hard of hearing. Won't admit it; he's a _shy_ guy," the blonde gave me a pat on the back, almost as in warning.

Shannon took a seat on a decayed log as the conversation went on. Despite the brittleness of the rotted wood, it managed to hold the petit teen's frame; I doubt it would hold both of us so I remained on my feet. I contemplated butting in and asking Christa if she knew of Clem, only catching pieces of their wordy exchanges. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea... She could've been with Carver's gang.

"So, where you heading?" Christa inquired.

_Oh shit._

The question caught my attention; heart thundering a bit for fear something would slip about Carver. Shannon brushed some dirt off her knees, her calm composure a contrast to my stuff and uneasy one as she began to speak."We-"

"We're searching for our dog," I interrupted Shannon, earning me a sharp blue-eyed glance. I don't know why I said dog, maybe because thinking of Clem made me think of that dog bite on her arm when we first met.

"It's a hunting dog, very valuable," Shannon continued much to my relief, validating it. "He caught us _that._"

She motioned to the beheaded rabbit lying on the forest floor near my feet. Following Shannon's finger with her dark eyes, Christa grimaced and returned her gaze to flicker between the girl and I.

"Are you hungry? You can have it," Shannnon offered.

Nodding, Christa limped slowly over to the prey and gathered it up into her hands. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead at the effort of motion. She almost looked as if she was going to pass out. Shannon and I shared a look of concern. Nodding, I motioned for her to handle the new survivor.

"So... what happened to your leg? Doesn't look much like a walker bite, at least."

"No, no. Not a walker bite. Thank god. " Christa closed her tired eyes. "I... ran into some trouble just south of here. Bandits. Barely escaped."

I narrowed my eyes. That sounded very familiar.

"Ah, Doctor Shannon will heal it up for you."

"Thanks." A hint of a smile vanished just as it appeared.

The blonde slung her backpack off her shoulder and quickly fished out some supplies contained in a small plastic Baggie. Medicine reminding me of my tumble down the ravine, I frowned and made a mental note to have 'Doctor Shannon' to check up on my own wounds.

"Sit down- on that rock," the teen instructed as I offered her a hand up. She obliged, slinging her backpack on once again before she wandered over to Christa. "Where you headed?"

Lowering herself onto a flattened boulder that was roughly in the shape of a triangle, Christa muttered the information emotionlessly, "I'm going to Wellington. Up north,"

"The pain in your leg must be clouding your thoughts," Shannon scoffed. The sudden distaste in her posture and tone, so heavily different from her generous one before, caused me to raise an eyebrow at the girl.

Christa blinked her chocolatey gaze widely, caught off guard by the sudden harshness. "No, Wellington sounds like- is a safe place. Cold... Slows down the walkers." She shrugged.

"I don't know what's up with your _batshit_ craziness, but it's not a fucking smart idea, lady. Don't going North chasing a dream." Shannon's tone had almost drifted to a snarl, but she kept it lowered enough to not draw attention to our whereabouts.

"You need to watch your mouth," Christa hissed, her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll leave right now."

"And you need to listen very carefully," Shannon huffed almost uncaringly, "I'm not forcing you to stay here. Leave- go up north if that's what you want to do. Get yourself _killed_."

Christa opened her mouth to argue, but as her dark eyes fell upon her injured leg, she shut it quickly and leaned away from the blonde girl. Her gaze drifted in the same direction. A few moments passed. I watched as her frosty breath disappeared the zephyr, stolen silently away into the forest. I'm sure any trust that had been built disappeared just as easily.

As I studied the injured survivor, a petit hand wrapped loosely around my wrist. Startled, I began to pull me arm away, though I quickly realized Shannon was responsible. "Luke, I need to talk to you," she informed me icily, catching my gaze as she sauntered to the brush with me in tow.

"Right," I nodded, shuffling behind Shannon.

As we wandered away from the clearing, Christa's eyes burned into my back. We all knew what the kid wanted me to talk about with me. Shannon brought be several paces away from her, far enough where we'd be out of earshot if we kept our voices down. The blonde released my arm and leaned against a mossy tree trunk, her backpack easing the lumpiness of bark.

"Luke, she's gonna slow us down."

I sighed. "I know, but we can't just... _leave_ her either. Not with that leg."

"Humph, I thought you liked to kill things with injured legs," Shannon muttered in reference to the rabbit I put out of it's misery.

Frowning, I scratched my head. "Easy now."

"Sorry, that was unnecessary," the blonde sighed, bitterness draining from her voice. She folded her arms. "Anyways, of course not, no; leaving her isn't right. I was thinking I could send her back to the house. It's not that far and I can give directions."

"That's a good idea, we can draw it up on your paper. Or something."

"Yeah, exactly," the teen nodded, unfolding her arms.

"Alright, let's head back now and tell her the plan. Then get on our way."

"Wait, Luke," she interjected with a quizzical expression. "Is there anything else you want to talk about? You weren't acting yourself back there with Christa."

My breath puffed like white smoke into the air as I sighed, my mind drifting to dialogue I had exchanged with Clementine._ It has to be he same Christa. Too much of a coincidence to not be,_ I thought.

"Well... Clementine, she mentioned somebody named Christa being with her before we found her," I informed Shannon. "I don't know if it's the same person, okay, but the reason Clem and her friend were separated was because they were attacked. And Christa has that injured leg."

"Interesting... Who's Clemen- oh right, group member that's now with Carver. Anyways, I don't think you should mention that to her. She might want to come with us, if it is that Christa. Can't have that."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Right, but we don't want her going some wild goose chase looking for her either."

"She's doing that anyways with Wellington. Crazy lady." She sounded exasperated with her words curt and gruff.

"Hey, kid, you don't need to be stirrin' up trouble with her, _alright_."

"_Alright_," she mimicked my southern drawl, a smile playing on her lips. "Let's go."

I nodded, convinced the girl would mind herself. Taking this as a dismissal, Shannon pushed herself away from the tree and began to trot back in the direction of the clearing, I following shortly after.

* * *

**Author's Note **

_I apologize for the hiatus; it was out of my control. A surgery, a biopsy on my lung mass to test for cancer, really set me back between recovering and making up school work. The test results came back negative, fortunately. I could really use some love on this with reviews, guys. They always cheer me up. _

_-Plania_


	7. Chapter 7: Bloodhounds

**Chapter Seven**

_Bloodhounds_

* * *

_"Oh shit."_

Shannon's voice lacked the sharpness of alarm, but I quickened my pace to reach the clearing; concern crawled over my skin like little red fire ants. "Ah shit."

The rugged, treeless patch we stopped in with the new survivor was barren of human; the triangular boulder abandoned. Christa was gone. Jaw tightening, my eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of perplexity and vexation. My calm mindset, abraded between the stress of my kidnapped friends, Shannon's audacity, and now the missing Christa, caused rage to boil my blood.

"Dammit, if-" I cut my self short, eyes glaring at the ground. Whatever I words I wanted to say to the blonde only could've risen tensions higher.

Frustration nettled at me, but my own emotions reflected in Shannon, who slowly pawed a foot at the earth like an enraged bull ready to impale the nearest person with horns. My expression softened. "Hey, kid, 's not your fault, okay? She chose to go, don't be so hard on y'erself."

"Yeah, yeah. Right." She didn't sound convinced, her tone distracted and vacant. "Not my fault."

"We... Right now, we don't got time to follow her, alright? But after we save my friends from..." I frowned heavily, "Carver, we can come back here and-"

Shannon shrugged indifferently. "What, look for her? She's gone. Let's just go."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I sighed and nodded curtly. My friends needed me- who knew what hell he'd be raining down on them. "Right... don't want to burn the daylight we got left."

Returning to the only close road road wide enough for a vehicle large enough to escort a handful of survivors, I felt like a bloodhound following the scent of a squirrel. Recent tire tracks scarred the earth. The truck that made them had to belong to Carver; the powerful man being the only one that would be able to fuel or need such massive machinery.

Stepping in the tracks, the rigid edges disguised our endless footfalls.

The girl suggested stopping to close our eyes more than once, her sweet tone convincing and persuasive, but the urge to find my friends drowned out her words. I even offered to carry her if she was drowsy, despite the pain burning in my ribs. Of course, the stubborn blonde declined. Shortly after, we dealt with a small herd of lurkers where one of Shannon's flimsy arrows snapped. Besides that situation and bathroom breaks, we never slowed.

It wasn't until the sun vanished that my chocolatey gaze sagged with heaviness and my feet dragged. With a chuckle, the mindful Shannon announced she'd carry me 'if I got drowsy'. Almost giving into the teen's continuous requests of slumber, the ground caught my attention.

Footprints trailed under the lofty southern trees. Along with that, water rumbled alluringly in the distance, and Shannon and I collectively agreed we should check it out.

Eventually, the trail ceased, however the sound of water lured us deeper into the forest. Carver's hardware store positioned itself within a mile of a river, so H20 was a lead worth following.

The stars scintillated magically in the ebony heavens, mere peasants hugging closely to the kingly half moon. Clear in the moonlight and icily glittering in the winter atmosphere, a wide waterfall cascaded down into a spumescent river that thundered on with a captivating power. The stars reflected on the chilly surface.

Briefly, Shannon held a fist to the sky before she peered into the water, her face down and shaded. Watching her shadow dance on the currents, I wondered if she was okay, emotionally. Wasn't easy for a kid, no matter how confident or wise, to grow up in this. When I was about to ask if she was in fact okay, her honeyed words sounded over the river.

"We're definitely on the right track," the blonde murmured. "See The Big Dipper? Next to it is The Little Dipper. Polaris is part of The Little Dipper, the bright one on the handle. We can determine latitude by that. Holding an arm out gives you a ten degree estimate. We're closer to the equator judging by that and where it was yesterday."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wow, okay. Thanks for.. the science lesson."

"It's a navigation lesson," Shannon corrected half-heartedly, her eyes narrowed as she studied the sky.

_Odd, but useful, _I thought with a sigh.

While she took interest above, I took interest down below. Glancing for a trail along water, I searched for anything. The track had stopped a little ways back, my guess they left the vehicle for a bathroom break. Didn't find any evidence of waste, however. Exhausting my visual skills, I turned my chocolatey eyes to my aching feet.

The moonlight left a silver sheen on my filthy shoes, discoloring them. Diagonal from my shoe, an indentation dipped in the ground; unnatural crevices formed in a very familiar shape of a human foot print. Not recalling stepping there, I held my feet next the the large mark. Heart skipping a beat, it dawned on me that if it was too massive to be mine, it was too massive to be Shannon's. I snuck a glance at her, surprised to find her frosty glasz eyes narrowed at me already.

"We should head back to the main road and start back up on following them. Can't afford to sleep, like you said."

"Hold up Shan," I knelt down and prodded a finger at the earth.

"A footprint?" she pondered aloud, lowering beside me. "Looks fresh."

I nodded, retracting my hand to rest on my thigh. "Definitely. Maybe Carver and them passed thr-"

_Bang_.

A bullet penetrated the muddy earth, just a few inches away from Shannon. Toppling over backwards in a struggle to get to her feet, she gasped and hastily reached for her weapon. Cursing under my breath, I was already on my toes. By the collar of her shirt, I grabbed the blonde and forced her up and away.

More shots fired, one bullet slicing through the air just a bit too close to my head for comfort as we fled for some sort of vantage point against our attackers. The closest thing that offered protection was a wide tree trunk, a width impressive enough for me and my fellow survivor to hide behind. We had to lean our fronts against the bark to fit, though, leaving only one arm each to defend ourselves with.

Hushed voices and crunching leaves grew nearer. I strained my ears to catch their words and prepared my machete. Uneasiness clawed at my head as the forest fell silent to only the thundering of the waterfall.

_Bang_.

Chips of wood splintered away on the edge of my tree just below my hand, a silver bullet ricocheting off and into another direction. I flinched and pushed my back even harder against Shannon's.

Immediately after, a wheezing voice, heavy with a southern drawl, ordered, "Come on out now, thur's three of us and only two uh ya'."

I nudged Shannon to warn I was going to reply to him. "Hey now, let's all just calm down, okay. Nobody needs to get hurt tonight," I said, all the while my machete remained poised to strike.

"We won't shoot you if you throw your weapons down!" Called another voice I didn't recognize, one younger and crisper of a man my age.

"Okay," Shannon almost purred as she grabbled swiftly into her backpack, smirking as she withdrew something. With my angel, what she fished out was a mystery to me at the moment. A small click sounded, and she jerked her arm around the tree in a throwing motion.

"Grenade!" one attacker yowled in alarm, followed by the urgent scuffling of fleeting feet.

"What the fuck!" I hissed at Shannon, staring dumbfounded at the blonde.

She leered at me. "What? He _said_ to throw down my weapons."

At the end of her sentence, the grenade exploded deafeningly- debris shooting like massive bullets around our trembling shelter of a tree. With a wave of heat and smoke following, I coughed and grabbed Shannon's arm as we bolted away from the cloud of dust and savage survivors. My ears rang to the point I couldn't even hear myself order Shannon to run.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate them, and it encouraged me to write quite a bit. So Christa's gone again. Hehe. Do you think she'll return? What do you think Luke's going to do about Kenny when they finally meet again? And if or when Carver meets Shannon, how do you think he'll react to her slyness and attitude? Please let me know, I really value the opinions and thoughts of my readers. _


End file.
